Before the Flight
by TheLittleImp
Summary: Dick Grayson's back story


Before the Flight

"Hurry up, Dick, or we'll be late," Mary Grayson called to her son.

"Coming," Dick answered as he back flipped out of the trailer his family called home. "Where's Dad?"

"He's checking the equipment," Mary answered, walking towards the circus tent. She had to shout to be heard over the crowds.

"Can I stay by the ticket booth and entertain the people in line?" Dick asked looking at, well, everything. There was Madison in the act of sticking a sword down her throat. Bill, the clown, was making a balloon animal for a child around his age. Todd, the tall man, was walking beside Sam, the fat man, to the back entrance that all the performers used.

Then there was the noise, people calling to one another, "Wow, look over there!" or "Whoa! Look at that!" The sound of animals roaring in their cages, and the general sounds people make when they're excited.

Mary thought about it for a second, "Well, alright, but make sure Roger can see you from the booth, and don't talk to any strangers."

"Okay." Dick smiled and bent back slowly into a bridge. He kicked his legs over so he was doing a handstand.

"Mommy, Mommy, look at him!" a small boy said jumping up and down excitedly. "What is he?"

"He's an acrobat, sweetie, and we'll get to see him perform in a bit," his mother answered.

He understood enough English to know what they were saying, but he was still having trouble speaking it. Dick and his family were Romanian. He had picked up different languages over the years of roaming from one country to another. There were a lot of different family backgrounds in Haley's Circus, so everyone knew at least three languages. Dick knew five and was always looking for someone to teach him more.

A few more people joined the already long line after watching Dick. A circus was more than the performances that went on in the tent; it was games and rides. That was where the circus made a lot of its money, but the more people that went in the tent, the better.

One person that joined the line was a tall man in his mid-twenties. Dick had seen his face somewhere, maybe a newspaper or something like that. The man was smiling, but Dick could tell it was fake. In truth the man was worried and angry. The man was obviously rich; his clothes made that easy to see. Dick wondered what he was so upset about. He had always thought having money made peoples' problems go away, but maybe it didn't. Dick wouldn't know; his family lived in a trailer and his mom made most of their clothes. If she didn't make them, they went to a thrift store.

Dick performed for a few more minutes before his dad called him into the large red and white tent.

"Are you ready to fly, Little Robin?" Mary asked smiling.

"Yep," Dick answered. He loved the feeling of soaring from bar to bar. It was dangerous, but he knew what was he was doing. It was his life and his parents' lives and he wouldn't change a thing.

John Grayson came up behind his son and swung him up onto his shoulder smiling. "We're on."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the amazing death-defying family, The Flying Graysons!" the ringmaster, Jimmy, shouted as the Graysons stepped into the center ring. The three of them waved to the cheering crowd. They started climbing up the rigging to the top of the tent. "They will be performing sixty feet in the air with no net or safety device of any kind," Jimmy continued.

"Mom?" Dick said suddenly.

"Yes, darling?" They had reached the platform by now.

"Something is wrong," Dick answered.

"What's wrong, buddy?" John asked.

"I don't know, just something's wrong," Dick said. He couldn't explain it, but he felt as if something bad was near. He had heard of people having bad feelings right before something happened. He wondered if this was what that was like.

"Are you sick?" John asked. It was dangerous to perform while sick. One wrong move, a second's hesitation, a lapse in judgment because of a clouded mind could mean death for more than one person.

"No," Dick said quickly. He knew he wasn't sick, but if his parents thought he was he wouldn't be going out on the trapeze for that night or any night for a week after.

"Okay, but your mom and I will go first. If you're sure you're okay than you can perform," John said. The concern in his voice was impossible to miss.

"Okay," Dick said. He and his dad had planned to do their part of the show first, but a little change in the show would be okay.

John swung out first. He let go of the bar, flipping through the air. He grabbed the other bar, as the crowd cheered loudly from below. Mary caught the first bar as it swung back. She swung out. John swung out to meet her, holding on to the thin piece of metal with his knees. His arms were reaching for his wife. She let go and flipped twice. The timing was perfect. John caught Mary's outstretched hands.

Dick was watching happily from the platform. He loved seeing his parents perform together. They were perfect. That's when he heard the 'SNAP'. The crowd screamed with one voice.

Dick started climbing down the rigging. He was shaking and trying to figure out what had just happened. They couldn't have fallen. They were so careful and never took risks.

The crowd was suddenly silent except for a few broken sobs from people in the audience.

Dick slipped the last few feet to the ground and ran into the center ring. Jimmy caught him and turned him away from his parents' broken bodies. The scream that Dick had stuck in his throat came out suddenly, followed by wave after wave of tears.

"Someone call the police!" Dmitry, the fire breather, shouted loudly. He had come into the center ring and found that the two Flying Graysons were dead.

The silence had been broken by Dick's first outcry and a flood of hysteria followed. There is only one word to describe what happened next: Pandemonium. People started pouring out of the stands and surrounding the center ring. Mothers were pulling their children to the nearest exits. Some people just sat in their seats, in shock. They had come here to see a show and have fun with their families and friends. They had not come to see two trapeze artists fall to their deaths. Soon the loud cry of police sirens could be heard.

Suddenly Dick jumped out of Jimmy's arms and ran back to the ring. Some people tried to stop him, but he ducked and dodged past them. He couldn't look at his parents. He went straight to the trapeze equipment. He picked up the end of the rope and examined it. It was easy to see that it had been cut partway through. The weight of the two artists had been too much for the partly severed rope.

Dick's mind immediately went to a fight he had heard the day the circus had pulled into Gotham.

Flash back

"You better pay up, Haley," a tall, thin man hissed. He had thin whitening hair, and brown shifty eyes that seemed as if they had stopped seeing the good things in this world.

"My circus doesn't need your protection, and you don't need my money. So get out!" Haley said angrily. Haley was owner of the circus and he prided himself on his honest performers and on the fact that he had never paid anyone to leave the circus alone.

Anyone who had ever come looking for trouble in the past had been scared away by Little George, the strong man, and Luis, the lion tamer.

"You'll regret this," the man had said as he turned away.

"I highly doubt that, Zucco," Haley had said calmly.

Zucco stormed out of the tent and past Dick, who was on his way to see Haley. A cold smile had spread over the man's face.

End of flash back

Dick shuddered at the memory, and then it was like he was walking in a fog. Tears were still sliding down his checks, but the pain was disappearing. Some part of him told him that he was going into shock.

One of the animal handlers had gotten his arm broken by a bear once. Dick had heard the man screaming in pain. He had covered his ears and wished the doctor would come and help the man, but the man had stopped screaming suddenly. At first Dick had thought the man was okay, but his parents told him later that the man had gone into shock and would be okay in a few days. His arm took a long time to heal.

Dick was aware that someone was wrapping a jacket around him and then he was picked up. Someone else pried the rope from his hand. He looked up at the person who was carrying him. Dick was expecting Jimmy or Haley, but he didn't know his man. He was one of the people who had watched Dick while waiting in line. It was the man who was angry.

"My name is Bruce Wayne. You're going to be staying with me for a while," the man said gently.

Dick couldn't answer. It felt like a softball was in his throat, and he couldn't swallow it. All he could do was cry.

The man carried him out of the tent. People were talking loudly. The police were shouting orders while trying to get people away from the crime scene. The circus performers were gathered in small groups, whispering.

"Commissioner," Bruce said addressing a man in a nice suit and a long brown trench coat. "Is it alright if I take Richard home now?"

His car had been driven up and Bruce gently put Richard in the back seat, so the small eight year old was out of the rain that was starting to fall. Alfred sent Bruce a look that asked for an explanation as to who was the unknown child in the back seat of the limo.

Bruce shook his head. An explanation could be given when Richard wasn't around. Alfred nodded. There was a silent language that existed between the two of them. It came from years of hiding the same secret and years of living in the same empty house more as father and son than master and butler.

"In a minute. Someone went to get his things," the Commissioner, Jim Gordon, answered as Bruce closed the car door. It was cold and the boy only had on his costume which was not meant for Gotham's weather. "CPS is going to make my life miserable for me, letting you take this boy," the man said rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I'll think of a way to pacify them. Besides they wouldn't let him stay here," Bruce answered.

"There's another thing. This wasn't an accident. If the murderer thinks Richard knows something, he or she will probably try again. That boy won't be safe here or at any foster home," the Commissioner said sadly. He dealt with so much pain that was brought on by other people, but it was worse when a child was involved. His first night on patrol in Gotham was the night Bruce's parents were killed. Years later he had completely lost his belief that there was some good in bad people. Jim believed that everyone was capable of hurting and killing others. Today's sweet innocent child was tomorrow's killer.

"What makes you think Richard might know something?" Bruce asked. He hoped for Richard's sake that he didn't know anything and the killer knew he didn't.

"Whoever did this didn't want anyone walking away, so we have to assume that they'll try again. He'll be safer at Wayne Manor. Out of the city and out of sight, until the reporters get wind of this" the Commissioner said. "Would you like me to assign a protective detail to Richard?"

Bruce would have said no in a second, but he wasn't supposed to know how corrupt the GCPD was. The Gotham police were infamous for taking bribes and not seeing crimes being committed. Things had gotten better with Gordon as commissioner, but there were still bad cops in with the good.

A thought struck Bruce. He was responsible for Richard. The small child was under his care. What was he thinking? He didn't know anything about kids. He was the Dark Knight. Everyone was scared of him. He had heard some nanny at a party telling a kid that if she was bad Batman would come and take her to jail. The child had started screaming her head off, and the nanny had been fired on the spot in front of some of Gotham's richest and 'best'.

Bruce 'thought' about Gordon's offer for a moment. "I think the security system at the Manor will be enough," he said finally.

A young woman came running up to them. Bruce had seen a poster of her on the side of the ticket booth. Her name was Madison, and she swallowed swords. There was a lot Bruce would rather go through before he willingly stuck a sword down his throat, but hey, maybe some people liked the idea of a piece of sharp metal going inside of them without cutting themselves. Until they did cut themselves, that is.

She looked as if she expected them to be gone. In one hand she had a small suitcase and under her arm was a stuffed elephant about the size of a large cat.

"I'm sorry for taking so long," she said breathlessly.

Madison, like most of the performers, had grown up in Haley's circus. The Graysons were family as was the rest of the circus. Something interesting about people is that when they don't have a family, they will gather around others in the same position. Whether it's foster homes, gangs, cults, or in this case, a circus.

"Can I see him?" Madison asked hopefully. She glanced at the fancy limo. Limos were a rare sight in her world.

"Of course," the Commissioner answered. "But I'll need your sword.'

Bruce had seen it the second the young woman ran up. A long beautiful sword hung at her waist. She was to have gone out after the Graysons' trapeze act, so she was still in her bright costume.

"Oh! Yes," Madison said and handed over the sword. The realization was setting in that this was a murder investigation, and everyone was a suspect until proven otherwise.

Bruce opened the car door for her, and she stepped half inside. He watched her closely. Why had she gone to get Richard's things? She did have a sword. Maybe she had decided to use it for more than sticking down her throat. Maybe she had cut some ropes with it. Bruce's train of suspicious thought was broken when he thought of the elephant. Who after committing murder thought of being a child his stuffed toy? Not many people in Bruce's experience.

"Hi, Dick," Madison said in Russian. "I brought you the Sultan,' She placed the elephant in Richard's lap. He at once grabbed on to it. "I'm sorry," she said and kissed his forehead. Madison stepped out of the car and turned to Bruce. "He's still learning English, so if he doesn't understand something just repeat it. He's scared of the dark and odds are if he's hurt, he won't say anything. He prefers to be called 'Dick'. He thinks Richard is too formal." She went on for a minute or two before finishing her instructions.

"I think that's everything, Mr. Wayne. You can go now. Oh, and I'll be stopping by within the next couple of day. Let me know if Ri- Dick says anything important," Gordon said turning back to the mess he still had to deal with. This was going to be a long night. Too bad he'd left his coffee at home on the kitchen table. Barbara had said she would stop by the station tomorrow after school. With how things were looking, he wouldn't see his daughter until then.

"I will," Bruce answered shortly. He got into his limo. Dick was quietly crying into his stuffed elephant's head. Bruce wanted to tell the small boy that he understood what he was going through, but knew this wasn't the time.

"Are you ready, sir?" Alfred asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. This was so much like the night Thomas and Martha died. Like the night Alfred had gone to pick up Bruce from the police station. The butler never told Bruce that he held himself partly responsible for the Waynes' deaths. He should have been there to pick them up from the theater that night.

"Yes, Alfred," Bruce answered as he buckled Dick and then himself in.

The ride to Wayne Manor was silent except for Dick's uncontrollable sobs. The rain that had started off soft and gentle had turned into a torrent. Gotham was known for her wild storms but better known for her criminal activity.

Alfred pulled up in front of the Manor. He would park the limo in the garage later. Bruce got out and stepped into the pouring rain. He unbuckled Dick. With his arms full of a crying child, small suitcase and stuffed elephant, Bruce went into his home.

The next morning Dick woke up in a big bed. He looked around and saw he was in a huge room that was painted blue. In one corner there was a bookcase, a comfortable looking chair and a tall lamp next to the bookcase. On the other side of the room was a door that led to a bathroom that was decorated with brightly painted fish.

Dick sat up slowly and suddenly last night came flashing back to him. He was overwhelmed. There were no words to describe the pain he felt. Dick laid back down and soon his body was shaking with sobs.

After a while he got up and went over to the big oaken door that led out of the room. It opened into a bright hall that had a row of windows on one side. Dick slowly crept down the hall, the Sultan under one arm.

The deep red walls were covered with portraits and other old antiques. As he went further down the hall, it got darker. There were less windows. The whole place reminded Dick of a castle his parents had taken him to see while they were in London.

He went down a flight of stairs that branched out at the top. It was an Imperial staircase. Dick's mom thought… had thought they were beautiful.

"Dick," a voice said suddenly. Dick whipped his head to the right and saw the man who had taken him from the circus last standing in a doorway. He had said his name was Bruce Wayne. Dick couldn't see into the room, because the man's shoulders were so broad they filled the doorframe "I was just coming up to check on you."

Dick couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded.

Wayne was the name of an actor. Dick and his father had watched some of the westerns before they came to America. Dick had been expecting cowboys, ranches and cattle drives. He had been disappointed to find that that was not what America was like. It was loud, busy and a lot like the other big cities of the world, yet different. No two cities were the same. That's what made being part of the circus so fun. Every week a new country, a new town or city. There was a down side; there is for everything. The circus was always on the outside. The performers were often regarded with suspicion or distrust.

"Do you need anything?" Mr. Wayne asked

Dick sat down suddenly on the stairs. "No," he answered in a whisper. "I'm so cold and I can't get warm." Dick hoped he used the right words to explain how he felt.

Mr. Wayne came over and sat on the stairs next to Dick. "I know how you feel. I lost my parents when I was a little older than you. You won't have to go through this alone. Alfred and I are here for you." Wayne was speaking clearly and made sure to enunciate. He wasn't treating Dick like he was stupid for not fully understanding his language, like some people did when they realized Dick wasn't fluent in whatever language someone happened to address him in.

Dick took a deep breath. Someone had to know about Zucco and how he had threatened the circus. "I know who killed my parents," he said slowly.

"Who?" Bruce asked.

"A man, Haley called him Zucco. He wanted money from the circus, but Haley told him to go. Zucco said Haley would be sorry," Dick explained.

Bruce was silent for a moment. "I'm going to call the Commissioner. I want you to tell him what you told me. Okay?"

Dick nodded. He felt sick. He wanted to wake up from this endless nightmare, but that wasn't going to happen. His world had fallen apart, and if he ever managed to put it together again it wouldn't be the same.

Bruce got to his feet and left Dick sitting on the stairs. He knew the name Zucco. Antonio Zucco was responsible for at least five murders, but the problem was proof. Without proof there was no case against him. Batman had tried to track him down before, but the man knew how to hide. Now two more people were dead and a child was an orphan. That was Bruce's fault, and he would never forget that his failure had left a child's parents dead. What had he been thinking? He should have hunted Zucco until the man turned himself in out of fear.

Dick watched Bruce go back into the room he had come out of. He could see now that it was an office. Dick heard a soft step and looked the way the sound had come from. It was the man who had driven the limo last night.

"Hello, Master Dick. I am Alfred, the butler," the man said gently. Dick would say he was in his late 50s or early 60s. Alfred spoke with an English accent and wore a suit. He also spoke clearly, and avoided contractions. "Would you like something to eat?"

Dick nodded. Why had Alfred called him 'Master Dick'? His name was just Dick, Richard when he was in trouble or something serious was being said. The only master Dick knew was the ringmaster.

"Well, shall we go to the kitchen and get some breakfast then?" Alfred asked.

"Okay," Dick answered softly.

Dick followed Alfred to the gourmet kitchen. It was tiled in black and white. All the cabers were white and the refrigerator, stove, and microwave were black.

Dick sat down at the island and Alfred brought him a plate of eggs and bacon. He ate quietly. A few minutes after he finished the doorbell rang loudly throughout the mansion. Alfred went to answer the door. Dick followed him, but stopped in the doorway that led to the foyer.

"Hello, Commissioner. Master Bruce is right this way," Alfred said as he let Gordon into Wayne Manor.

Alfred led the Commissioner to Bruce's office. Dick followed silently behind the two men. The thought of being alone in this big house frightened him, especially after last night. Dick realized suddenly that in his mind every thought revolved around 'last night' or 'the last night'. It was as if time had stopped and the performance was still going on over and over again. To Dick it seemed that there was no hope of light for tomorrow, the next day, or ever.

Dick felt like he was drowning. This couldn't be happening; this couldn't be real. Could it have been only yesterday he had woke up in his family's trailer to the sound of his parents talking? The sound of their voices always made him feel safe. His father's voice was strong and confident. His mom's was soft and sweet. How could they be gone? This was Zucco's fault, and he would pay for what he had done. Dick would make sure of that.

The next few days passed slowly for Dick. He couldn't stop crying, and when he did stop his head hurt and his eyes stung. When he did manage to sleep his parents' deaths ran through his mind until he woke up screaming. His voice became hoarse and almost inaudible to the point that he spoke only when it was necessary.

Bruce and Alfred were always there for him. If not Bruce, then Alfred and vice versa. At night when nightmares plagued Dick, Bruce could come and sit by his bed and talk to him until he was able to go back to sleep. Sometimes Bruce didn't come. When that happened Alfred would come. The two of them would go down to the kitchen and Alfred would make hot chocolate. They would sit together and Alfred would tell Dick about how he used to be an army doctor in the service of the Queen of England. The butler had had many adventures before coming to America, one of which was how he had been shot in the leg. The bullet had left him with a slight limp.

On these nights Dick knew that Bruce wasn't at home. Dick didn't think it was any of his business, until one morning Bruce showed up to breakfast with a black eye and a bandages wrapped around his right arm.

"Are you alright?" Dick asked as he took his seat at the table. His English had been getting better due to Alfred's stories and Bruce's talks.

"Yes." Bruce looked like he was about to fall asleep in his coffee.

"Bruce, where do you go at night?" Dick asked looking up at his guardian. He was worried. Dick knew that a lot of people in Gotham were into bad business, and it got them killed more often than not. He didn't want that to happen to Bruce. Dick was starting to slowly feel safe and loved again. He couldn't lose another family.

Bruce was startled. People who didn't know him wouldn't have seen it, but Dick did. It was a momentary pause in his eye, then a quickly assessing of the situation and coming up with a reasonable answer. "What makes you think I'm going somewhere?"

"One night I got up and walked all over the house. You were not here," Dick said almost accusingly.

"I'm sorry, Dick, but I can't tell you that," Bruce said seriously.

"Is it… What is the word for against the law?" Dick asked. He wished he could think of the right words. Not being able to communicate how he felt or what he meant was really getting old. Bruce had gotten a Romanian to English dictionary for him, but that didn't always get his point across

"Illegal," Bruce suggested.

Dick nodded.

Bruce thought for a second. Being a vigilante was technically illegal and if he ever was caught he would be doing prison time, but in the end the only person who would get hurt from his activities as Batman was himself. He and Alfred had planned out everything if Bruce was caught. That plan was put in place for Alfred's safety, but that plan needed to be readjusted now that Dick was part of his life. If he was arrested it would mean Dick's world was falling apart again, so he'd just have to be more careful.

"It's not bad," Bruce said finally. He trusted Dick, but he didn't know if the boy could keep the identity of Batman a secret.

"But is it illegal?" Dick asked. He made a note to look the word up later to get its full meaning. English words often had more than one use or meaning.

"Richard, the less you know the safer you will be. I don't want you to tell anyone about me being hurt or going out at night. Okay?' Bruce said. He couldn't have anyone thinking for even a second that Bruce Wayne and Batman were one in the same.

"Okay," Dick answered and went back to his breakfast. He didn't want to argue with Bruce, besides he would find out what the billionaire was up to sooner or later. Sooner would be the most likely outcome. Dick had a habit of finding things out.

Dick sat down in a big red chair in Bruce's office. He had been wandering around the manor thinking of how he could prove that Zucco had murdered his parents, but what could he do. He was eight years old. It wasn't like he could go walking through Gotham looking for a killer.

The Commissioner had said the police were looking for Zucco, but if they didn't have evidence they couldn't prove he did it. With no proof there would be no arrest, no trial and no justice. Just his word wouldn't be enough. He had heard Zucco threaten the circus, but what was that worth? A judge would dismiss anything Dick said in court as a kid over reacting to a business deal that didn't work out and a jury would too.

Dick glanced around Bruce's office. He had started coming there while Bruce was working. He would sit and talk to Bruce or try to read a book, but if he thought speaking English was hard, reading it felt next to impossible. Bruce was always very patient about listening to Dick sound out the words, and he was always ready to help with the words that didn't make sense.

The office was a big room with a desk at one end. Behind the desk were three large windows that looked out over the Wayne grounds. Dick didn't know why Bruce had put his desk facing the room. If he turned it around he could look outside while he worked. That's what Dick would have done if it was his office. It wouldn't be very fun to have nothing to look at, but a door all day. Outside was so much prettier. It rained a lot, but then the rain would slide down the windows like tiny waterfalls.

On the other side of the room from where Dick was sitting, there was a coffee table and three red chairs. Two were facing each other on the long ends of the table. One had its back to most of the room and was facing the fireplace. This was where Dick was sitting. Above the fireplace was a huge picture of a man and woman. On the bottom of the thick wooden frame there was a gold plaque that said: In loving memory of Martha and Thomas Wayne.

Bruce had said these were his parents. They looked so happy, much as Dick's had.

On the opposite wall to Dick was a bookcase. Once he had tried to count the books in it. He got lost somewhere around four hundred, thirty-seven. There was an old grandfather clock near Bruce's desk that would chime the hours. He liked the old clock for some reason. It reminded him of a clock in a movie that his parents had taken him to see. Going to the theater had been a special occasion for them, because it was so expensive and they often didn't have the money for it.

Suddenly Alfred walked into the room and went over to the old clock. He reached inside and pulled the pendulum down. Just as Dick was about to say something to let the man know he was in the room, the clock slid to the side. Alfred stepped inside and the clock moved back as if Alfred had never been there.

It was safe to say Dick was shocked. He didn't move or make a sound until Alfred came back through the clock a few minutes later. The butler left the room without seeing the small acrobat.

Dick got up slowly and quietly. He went over to the clock and pulled the pendulum down just as Alfred had. It was a small room with a light directly overhead. The clock slid back into place and the room started going down without warning. Dick jumped a little, but then realized it was an elevator. When it stopped he stepped out cautiously.

It was a cave. The walls were solid rock and there were three leaves. There was a large hole in the middle of the floor, so Dick could see down to all of the levels. One looked like a parking place for a large vehicle. The second floor had what looked like trophies of some kind. There was a huge coin, a case that had what looked like blood-covered playing cards in it, an umbrella that clearly had a gun built into it and other things like that. On the top floor where Dick was standing were computers along one wall and along another were all kinds of gadgets and equipment. This had to be the Batcave. He had been told stories about the Dark Knight of Gotham, how he protected Gotham and stopped criminals. There were some people who thought he was a vampire or an alien, but Dick didn't believe that. To think he had found the hideout of the World's Greatest Detective, and it was right under Wayne Manor, which could only mean one thing: Bruce was Batman. Maybe Bruce could find Zucco and prove that the man had killed his parents.

Suddenly Dick heard the sound of a car engine roar as drove into the cave. The black, bullet proof vehicle stopped in its spot on the bottom floor. Dick jumped back behind a support beam, when the car door opened and Batman stepped out.

Dick moved further behind the metal beam, hoping he could get to the elevator without being seen. He peeked out from his hiding place and saw the Batmobile, but Batman wasn't in sight. He turned and was about to make a dash for the elevator, but blackness loomed up over him. He looked up and found Batman tower in front of him.

Dick let go something between a gasp and a quiet scream. For one terrible moment Dick forgot that this was Bruce. This couldn't be Bruce. There were eyes behind the white slits in the hooded face, but Dick couldn't see any emotion in them.

The Dark Knight reached up and pulled back his mask and there was Bruce.

"Bruce," Dick almost cried in relief. How could a mask change the way people saw someone so much? Batman was terrifying and ruthless, but Bruce was calm and almost always care free.

"Richard, what are you doing down here?" Bruce asked, kneeling down to Dick's level.

Dick explained how he had seen Alfred open the secret door behind the clock and how after the butler had gone, he had come to investigate. Bruce led him over to the computers. He picked up the small acrobat and he sat him on the long desk. Bruce then sat down in the tall, black chair.

"Are you mad?" Dick asked looking down at his feet that were hanging off the side of the desk. Had this not been as serious he would had been swinging his legs back and forth. He used to do that sitting high on the trapeze bar. It always made the clowns nervous. He hadn't meant to find the cave; it just happened.

"No, I'm not mad. Dick, listen, you can't tell anyone that I'm Batman, okay?" Bruce said earnestly. He had known Dick would find out, but he hadn't thought he'd find out within a week of being at the manor. It just burned the fact into his mind more thoroughly that he couldn't get close to anyone. If a child had seen though him in a week, what was stopping others from seeing though him? He had let his guard down. He'd have to be more careful from now on. Besides it wasn't just Alfred counting on him anymore. Dick needed him to be there.

"I won't," Dick said. "But why not? I'm sure people would like to thank you for everything you've done."

Bruce almost smiled. The reasoning of a child. Dick only saw the people who Batman had saved. He'd forgotten about the people Batman had put in Arkam Asylum, Belle Reve prison or Stone Gate prison.

"Not everyone likes me or what I do. Some people might want to hurt me, or Alfred or you. My mask protects me and the people I care about," Bruce explained.

Dick looked up at his guardian. "I promise I wouldn't tell anyone not even Barbra," he said seriously. He'd become good friends with the Commissioner's daughter over the last week. They saw a lot of each other, mostly because Dick was always having to go down to the station to talk to the detectives.

"Thanks, buddy," Bruce said and picked Dick up. "Now why don't we go up stairs and get cookies and milk. Then it's to bed with you." He stepped into the elevator.

"Bruce?" Dick asked with a yawn. "Can I help you stop bad guys?'

Bruce stepped out of the elevator. They were back in his office. "We'll see," he answered smiling down at his son. The Dark Knight jumped a little inside. He had never thought of Dick as his son before. As soon as the adoption papers went through he would be a father. Bruce never dreamed he'd be a guardian much less a father, but now he couldn't imagine life without his little Robin.

The End


End file.
